The Long Road Ahead
by Thrashin
Summary: Ruben Peirce struggles to survive in a world over run by the living dead. But the dead aren't the only threat. Rated M for swearing and sex stuff


**A/N: Hey readers, this is my first attempt at a Walking Dead story so bare with me. Its a original story with OCs set in The Walking Dead universe. So hopefully you enjoy. If you do leave a comment. If you didn't don't bother, though constructive criticism is welcome but if your just going to be rude you need not apply.**  
**Later!**

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"Fuck you guys then" Ruben yelled after the mini-van throwing the middle finger at the tail lights as it sped around the bend and disappear behind the tree line. One look at the bandage on his wrist and he was forced out of the vehicle. Ruben had tried to assure the group that it wasn't a roamer bite. But Brent, the leader, wouldn't listen. He said he couldn't take the chance before drawing his gun on Ruben and yelling at at him to get out without even giving him a chance to explain. When Ruben tried to reason he found himself being shoved out of the van along with a bag of his meager possessions. Now he was left stranded alone on the highway. All there was left to do was to keep moving, get out of the area before any near by walkers come to investigate the commotion.  
Ruben pulled his last granola bar before slinging his single strap backpack around his shoulder. He unwrapped the small bar while he walked down the side of the highway. He slowed his pace a little deciding he need to save he energy. His right hand rested on the 9mm glock 17 tucked in his belt ready to be drawn at a moments notice as he scanned the surrounding tree line as he walked and ate. Ruben figured roughly an hour had passed as he stopped for a bathroom break. There was no way to know for sure since the battery in his watch died and there hadn't been a chance to pick up another one anywhere else. He knew it would be dark soon and he had to find shelter somewhere for the night or he would be sleeping in the ground.  
A notion that was not all that appealing. Upon finishing his business Ruben heard a sharp snap, like a twig breaking under foot. He drew out his gun and pointed it toward the sound. A roamer shambled toward him. One that was once a woman, who appeared to have been a State Trooper. That's all that could be told about it under the decaying flesh and gore. Ruben's eyes fell to the holster still on it's hip. The gun was still there.  
_Score!_ Ruben thought. He didn't know guns very well but, from what he did know it looked like a .45. Since it appeared to be alone and he wanted to conserve as much ammo as possible. Ruben slid his glock back into his belt. Deciding his switch blade would be too small he pulled out the hatchet from his bag. Ruben backed up drawing the roamer on to the pavement. The slanted uneven slope made terrible grounds for a fight. He pulled up the bandana around is neck to cover his mouth and nose as he stopped at the yellow line in the middle of the road. Since traffic was a few in far between his focus was on the on coming roamer.  
Mercifully roamers are generally slow so Ruben had to wait as she approached. It shambled like they all do. Arms stretched out, hands flexing as if in anticipation of grabbing on to some poor soul and dragging them to it's broken rotting teeth. There was a wound on it's lower arm from where it was bitten. Dried blood and puss surrounding it.  
"Come on gorgeous" Ruben muttered as the roamer struggled over the ridge. "You gotta want it"  
When roamer was close enough he smacked it's out stretched arms away and brought the hatchet down on it's rotting skull with a wet crunch. Blood, skull fragments and brain matter spattered everywhere. Ruben instinctively closed his eyes as some of the gore spattered on to his face and found himself wishing he hadn't lost his goggles. The smell was enough to turn his empty stomach. The roamer fell into a crumpled heap. Ruben stared at it while he wiped hatchet on the leg of his jeans and put it back into the bag. He was forced to turn away.  
In the nine months since the dead rose, it hadn't got much easier to kill them. Especially up close like that. There are usually no real definable features on most of the walkers so it made it a little easier to believe they are not people. Just creatures that need to be put down. It doesn't matter who they were anymore. What their lives were. They're just hollow shells. Nothing's left of the person they had been. They don't think. They don't feel. They only want to feed. Nothing else matters but to keep from becoming one of them.  
Ruben then rolled the roamer over on its back. He pulled the gun out of its Holster and examined the weapon.  
_Cool_ Ruben thought, then set the gun down proceeded to take the holster belt. "You don't mind if I take this too huh?" Ruben asked the immobilized corpse. "Yeah, didn't think so". Ruben stood as he fasten the holster around his waist and put the gun back and tucked the glock at the back of his belt gangster style. Then he dragged the dead roamer back to the side of the road only to have it tumble down the slope and land against the a tree trunk with a dull thunk. Ruben winced at the sound.  
As He walked Ruben explored the various pouches in the holster belt. The Handcuffs were still there, as well as pepper spray, a extendable baton, a pair of disposable gloves and two clips of ammo. There was a holster for a taser, but it was gone, as was the first aid kid. Even so Ruben felt better having the two guns. He slowed as he rounded yet another bend on the winding highway he noticed a truck stop several hundred yards up the road. The there were vehicles of every shape and size, make and model parked haphazardly around it. It appeared there were a few dozen corpses littered around as well. After a few minutes of waiting to see if there was any activity going on, living or dead. Ruben approached with extreme caution. His senses seemed to buzz as they all worked over time simultaneously. He pulled the .45 from its holster. He realized he hadn't clipped it shut and decided he wouldn't from here on out in case of the need of a quick draw. Ruben noticed a State trooper squad car among the vehicles.  
_This must be where the walker came_ from He thought. As Ruben got closer he wondered if he should call out, he wouldn't want to startle anyone and end up shot. _On the other hand_, Ruben considered. _If there was someone there they might not appreciate company and shoot anyway. Ah_ _Screw it._

"Hello? Any one there?"  
Ruben waited for a moment. No answer. He stopped at the squad car and peered in. He knew cops had shotguns in their cars. But there wasn't one in this car. It wasn't all that disappointing, after all Ruben barely knew how to use the guns he already had. He stepped over one of the many corpses that lay strewn about as he made his way to the diner. Most of which looked to be walkers well into decay, save for a few who seemed to have gotten bitten then put down by who ever was with them. Stepping over another jumble he noticed one slouched against a tire of a semi. Ruben recognized him.  
Brent.  
Looking around at the bodies near by he recognized four more from the group that left him on the road. They had been Paul Nancy Rob and Trina. Trina was the one who started screaming about Ruben's Bandage. Tyler must have gotten away along with the Asian girl. Ruben couldn't remember her name. Nor did he bother to try. The bodies seemed to have been relived of their weapons so Ruben continued to the diner. A Big red sign above the door read 'Ruby Red's Truck Stop'. Ruben opened the door and bells at the top of the door announced his arrival. The empty the dinner greeted Ruben with a wafting stench of decay that made him gag.  
As he entered behind the .45 the stench hit him full force causing his gagging to evolve into several painful dry heaves. If there was a slim chance there was any food left in here, it would be worth it. If it was still good. And he could use a restroom to clean up.  
The swarms of flies buzzing around several corpses and the rotting food left on the tables was the only sound that accompanied Ruben's foot steps as he squished through puddles of Bloody gore. Doing his best to ignore the smell as he headed for the men's room.  
Ruben entered gun first, looking around corners and under the stalls. Determining he was alone he set his bag on the corner pulled off his bandana mask and examined himself in the mirror.  
He hardly recognized the person looking back a him. Using his fingers as a comb he ran them through his shoulder length knotted blonde hair that was way over due for a wash. Under the scraggly unkempt facial hair was a rather attractive nineteen year old. Light green eyes stared back at had all ways kept in shape so he had a fairly stocked build.  
He pulled off his gore spattered blue and grey drug rug. Underneath he wore a old Metallica band shirt that had seen it's share of blood and brains.  
A distant shuttering of empty pipes along with what sounded like a strained gurgle was all that resulted from Ruben trying the tap on the sink. He sighed, "Worth a shot." Digging into his bag Ruben out one of his precious water bottles and wet his bandana. Using it as a wash cloth he washed the blood off his face and hands. After a brief search of the restaurant that turned up nothing of use he had to leave as the smell became to over powering.  
The sun was setting when Ruben emerged from the dinner. He Searched around the cars for supplies and turned up nothing there as well. But his luck seemed to turn when he came across a small red ford ranger. Inside on the passenger seat he found a bag with a few shirts a sweater and pair of jeans that looked like they would fit him, and a Stephen King novel, Carrie. On the floor on the passenger side was a pair of black hiking boots. In the glove box was A lighter, A pack of cigarettes with only a few taken out, a driver's manual and a dead cell phone. The gas tank was almost full and the keys were still in the ignition. Perfect

Ruben decided to spend the night at the truck stop. The sun was already half way behind the horizon and He hated traveling at night. Driving or not. After checking the semi cabin where he decided he was going to sleep, he drove the truck into the garage and parked it beside a old el camino. He took the bag from the seat and left closing the garage door behind him.  
Inside the semi's cabin Ruben sat on the small bunk and looked through the bag of cloths. Two of the five shirts didn't fit. They were to big. Baggy cloths around walkers are a liability. It gives them more to grab on to. But Ruben decided he would keep them for the on coming jeans and sweater fit well. After a change into less bloody clothing Ruben lay down in the bunk and after a few beats fell into a shallow slumber.

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**A/N: I know not much happened but things will pick up I promise.**

**P.S Here's a fun fact. Did you know that the title doesn't actually refer to the zombies? It refers to the characters themselves. Because they are all infected themselves. Cool huh? **

**If you didn't already know that then spoiler I guess.**

**Happy Reading!**


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